A Friendly Game Of Poker
by Mrs. Witter
Summary: A boys' poker game leads to interesting revelations.
1. Part One: Poker Face

**Title**: A Friendly Game of Poker  
**Author**: Mrs. Witter  
**Rating**: R  
**Pairing**: D/Hr  
**Summary**: A boys' poker game leads to interesting revelations.  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own a damn thing. Can you tell I am bitter? The characters belong to JK Rowling.

**A Friendly Game of Poker**

**Part One: Poker Face**

To a third party, an outsider, the setting would look like a normal male bonding ritual, men being men, gathering around a poker table with cigars, beer and junk food, catcalling, cheering, laughing and having fun. Boys' night out. Men doing manly things in their manly ways.

But to a third party, an outsider who knew the history of this particular group of men, wizards to be exact, they would find the situation downright strange.

Slytherins and Gryffindors, never the twain shall meet. Pureblood and half-bloods, it was blasphemous to have them breathing the same air. Potter and Weasley hanging out with Malfoy and Zabini; oil and water do not mix.

But the War had been waged several years before ending in the death of a tyrant.

And everything had changed. _Changed_. How? Nobody really knew and nobody cared to discuss it. It happened and was accepted.

Now, post-War, these men could gather together to play poker together, in a flat Muggle London. (Because they were men and that's what men did).

"I really like that vase, Harry," Ron observed as he leaned back and observed the dark blue Ming vase resting on the mantle that Harry's girlfriend had brought back from her trip to China. "It's brilliant."

"Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas," his best friend answered, shuffling the cards.

"It is a rather charming piece, Potter. Goes with the décor," Adrian Pucey put in, glancing at it briefly while making his assessment.

"I think Alicia bought one awhile back on our trip to Morocco in a peasant bazaar," Oliver Wood put in after taking a sip of his beer. "But I like yours better, more my color."

"If you ladies are done, can we please play now?" Draco Malfoy suggested with a sneer as he leaned forward on his elbows on the table. "I would like to win all of your money as soon as possible. Especially from you Weasleys, now that you have enough of it to put on the table."

"Most of it we acquired from beating your pathetic arse in poker, Malfoy," Fred replied and reached for the bowl of crisps. "C'mon Harry, my dead grandmother moves faster than you."

The cards were dealt and Marcus Flint leaned back against his chair as he fanned his out in front of him. Ron shook his head as he stared at the other man's leer. "Flint, you're about as subtle as a fuckin' elephant."

"And if you don't stop eating those crisps you'll be 'bout as fat as one, I reckon," the Slytherin shot back with chuckle. "That pretty girlfriend of yours will be disgusted."

"Gentlemen," Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts Head Boy extraordinaire, commented, the patience he had learned over the years waning thin tonight. "Let's play a friendly game of poker shall we? Like the Muggles."

"Hey!" Ernie McMillan, the solitary Hufflepuff, complained suddenly, smacking George Weasley on the arm. "Stop stealing my chips!"

'Twas to be a long night.

- & -

Conversation ranged from Quidditch to jobs to (briefly) women (because they were men and men didn't talk about their feelings) to Hogwarts and then some.

By the tenth hand, the floor of Harry's apartment had accumulated empty beer cans, cigarette butts and ashes, crisps and cookie bits and the air was stuffy with stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke mixed.

No one noticed or cared to crack a window.

"Well, well," Fred stated gleefully as he laid out his cards, winning the fifth hand in a row. He reached for the chips, galleons and Muggle pounds in the middle and drew them close to him. "You were saying Malfoy?"

"Suck my di-"

"Friendly!" Ernie reminded, kicking his friend in the shin.

Malfoy kicked back, harder.

"Ow! You bastard!"

"Cry me a river, McMillan."

"Children," Adrian clucked his tongue. "Do I have to send you to bed without supper?"

Ron shuffled the cards this time and snickered. He had lost by far the most money tonight but inside he was glad that it wasn't to Malfoy. And even more glad, although he'd never admit it, that it wasn't to Harry either. Just like everything else, The Boy Who Lived And Killed The Dark Lord, had un-fucking-believable luck at cards.

The eleventh round started and conversation picked up again, this time, taking a rather interesting turn.

"Wood: best shag you've ever had," Blaise stated after taking a puff from his cigar.

"Easy," Oliver answered smoothly, never taking his eyes off his cards. "Your mother, Zabini. Likes it rough."

The other men snickered and made whistling sounds, Dean clapping Blaise on the back as the dark haired wizard took the jeering with a wry twist of his lips. "Funny, yours likes it kinky."

Another round of catcalls went around the table. Then Ernie sighed and dropped his cards on the table. "Not my lucky night, I suppose. I'm out. Hm. Where were we? Adrian? Best shag?"

The former Slytherin crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head, thinking. "Madame Rosmerta, post-Hogwarts. It was a rather memorable night and she had a little bit too much to drink. She was very affectionate."

Marcus nodded approvingly and Ron, who still held onto his childhood crush, felt his good mood evaporating quickly. Gaping, he shook his head and muttered, "Tell me you're joking."

"Aw, ickle Ronniekins," Fred teased and earned a punch from his brother. "What about you, McMillan? Surely you have had a night of uninhibited passion."

Ernie looked at his friend indignantly. "Padma and I have a wonderful sex life, thankyouverymuch. She's my one and only."

Draco made a gagging noise and Blaise shook his head. "No, I think there is something rather great being with one person and if the sex is great, I say more power to you, mate."

The other males groaned and then went back to the game, randomly stating names of girls they had laid in the past, embellishing a little and basically being men. Because that's what men…well, you know the rest.

The two players left remaining at the end of this hand were, if one could see the full-circle shtick of life, were an obvious pair.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco and grinned. "Well, it looks like it's me and you again, Malfoy."

Draco smirked. "Scared Potter?"

"You wish."

Marcus, who had taken a peek at Draco's card, grinned slyly. "So, Potter, best shag _you've_ ever had?"

"Pansy, of course," he answered without hesitation. "Have you _seen_ my girlfriend?"

"Hard not to," George put in with a snicker as Harry's eyes narrowed in his direction. "Hey! I'm just sayin', mate. She's one hot piece of arse."

"That's my girlfriend!"

"Oh pipe down, Scarhead," Malfoy stated annoyed. "Merlin, just give me your money already."

"Fat chance," Harry muttered and threw in his chips. "Call. What about you, Draco? Which MENSA member makes it on the top of your list?"

Draco had learned enough about Muggles to understand the reference and managed a small smile. Calmly, he leaned back on his chair and laid his cards down, eyes on Harry's. "Hermione Granger. Graduation Ball. Snape's office."

While the Slytherins and Ernie McMillan bust out laughing, the Gryffindors looked at him as if his head had just exploded, their mouths hanging open. Potter had dropped his cards, indicating to Draco that he had won. Casually, he leaned forward to collect his spoils.

"You…_NO…_never, 'Mione… touch…**_NO_**…Harry!_"_

"You're missing a few verbs there, Weasel."

"You lying bastard!" Ron finally managed to sputter out, face purple with rage. "'Mione wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole."

Flint, who was clutching his sides, managed to choke out, "I don't think it was _'Mione's_ pole that was doing the touching!"

"Aaargh!" Ron cried and launched over the table, knocking stuff over as he clutched onto Marcus's collar and sent them both tumbling backwards.

Chaos ensued. Everyone got in on the action, limbs and curses flying everywhere.

Draco pocketed his winnings and watched the melee, unaffected, wondering how long it would take elusive former Head Girl to pay him a visit.


	2. Part Two: Confirmation

**Part Two: Confirmation**

"Does this dress make me look slutty?"

"Well the fact that your boobs are falling out of them…" Ginny Weasley trailed off. "Here, let me see if I can get them to... you know…"

"There is no more room for them in this dress!" Pansy stated shrilly. "We flaunt what we have, Weaslette. Okay…stop…hey…_stop__ squeezing my boobs_!"

Ron, who was sitting outside the tiny dressing room in the Muggle boutique, glanced at his best friend miserably. "My little sister is making it to second base with Pansy Parkinson, mate."

Harry crossed his leg over the other as he sat on the pink, girly girl ottoman and stared at the door of the dressing room, watching two pairs of legs in impossibly high stilettos shuffle in the tiny enclosure. A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "_I know_."

"She's your bloody girlfriend! And my sister!"

Harry was going to reiterate his previous statement but wisely kept quiet at the look of utter disdain on his friend's face. He figured Ron had suffered enough this week. Before he could speak, however, he was cut off by another familiar voice.

"Luna, have you seen my knickers?" Hermione Granger asked Ron's girlfriend from the dressing room located next to the one Pansy and Ginny occupied. She poked her head out, her hair tumbling past her shoulders and managed to smile brightly at her childhood friends. "Few more minutes, boys, I can't find my knickers."

Luna extended a hand from the cubicle nearby and passed a pair of lacey blue knickers to Hermione. "You left it in here, 'Mione."

"Thanks!"

The girls disappeared back into the dressing rooms before Harry or Ron could say anything else.

"Harry," Ron said slowly, his voice almost squeaking like it did when he came across a spider, "please, please do something. I swear I can't take this anymore. I can't keep up with these bloody women! Why did you agree to this torture? If I hear anymore of this…nonsense between my sister and your girlfriend and my girlfriend and my best friend and if I see another pair of knickers…!"

The poor sap was almost crying in frustration. He had been pretty sporting when Harry first mentioned a day of shopping with the girls. Well, as sporting as any red-blooded male could be at the idea of shopping with women. But when Harry had suggested that they tag along so they could ask Hermione to confirm the Big Bad News revealed to them a week ago, Ron had willingly agreed.

The redhead had been ready to storm Hermione's flat the minute they left Harry's but The Boy Who Lived calmed him down; accusing Hermione with something that could be false would only make her angry. If they asked her while they were in a group, the chances of her whipping out her wand and burning them into oblivion were slim.

It was a disconcerting thought that Harry Potter, the same wizard who killed the Dark Lord, relied on his girlfriend to protect him but it seemed only Pansy Parkinson could face Hermione Granger's wrath without peeing in her pants.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly from behind the door of her cubicle. "Girls, I saw this wonderful dress a few stores back. But I didn't think it was my style. Think we can pop in after we're done here? I'd like to take another look."

Ron was about to pop an artery so Harry quickly stood up and interjected, "Uh, ladies aren't you hungry? Shall we have lunch first? My treat."

"I'm famished," Ginny replied. "There's this wonderful steakhouse just down the corner. We can go look at your dress later, 'Mione."

"I'll probably change my mind about it again before then," the former Head Girl sighed. "But I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast."

"Settled then," Ron announced as he shot Harry a just-add-this-to-the-things-I-owe-you-list look. "You girls just hand us the stuff, Harry and I will go stand in line to pay."

The group left the boutique ten minutes later, Harry and Ron carrying all the shopping bags as the girls walked on ahead, giggling and carefree. After all, Gryffindor men were gentlemen to the core.

They settled inside the restaurant. The girls chatted happily about their purchases and the food and the ambiance (because women noticed ambiance) while Harry and Ron sent each other furtive glances as they waited for the food to come, neither knowing how to broach the subject.

"So, Harry," Ginny stated, sipping her water. "Did you guys have fun playing poker? Dean was awfully quiet about it. Couldn't get a word out of him. When I asked him how it went, he just muttered something about how I really didn't want to know."

"Uh…" Harry started before Luna cut him off.

"Yes," she stated. "What happened? Ronald was so angry when he came back. You never told me why that was, darling."

"Erm," Ron squirmed in his chair, and looked at Harry desperately, hitching his head in a universal sign of 'you tell them!' "Yes, well, you see…"

"You boys were pigs," Pansy stated before her boyfriend could say a word. Guiltily, Harry reached over to her plate to pick the tomatoes out of her salad. "You left the flat a mess. Weasley, you could have stayed and helped clean up."

Luna looked up admonishingly from her task of cutting up his steak into little pieces. "Ronald!"

"Sorry, was not feeling so good that night," Ron muttered, throwing Harry another glance. "I was having issues."

"I'll say," Hermione added, smiling sweetly, not completely unaware of why her childhood friend's were looking at her like she was going to hex them across the room. Something was up, she knew, but it was fun seeing them squirm.

"How can you people make such a mess when you're playing poker at a table?" Ginny wondered before biting into her hamburger.

"Oh, they didn't just play poker," Pansy informed them. "Apparently, there was a tussle of some sort. Adrian got blood on the carpet."

"Figures," Hermione snorted, shooting her best friends a pinched look. "I'm happy I don't live with boys."

This caused the girls to launch into a diatribe about how yucky boys were, in general.

Ron kicked Harry under the table, jerking him into action. "Uh, Hermione…speaking of that night, Ron and I had a…we were wondering…" he stopped to scratch the back of his head while the girls looked at him patiently, curiously. "It's just that we were sort of playing a game and it was bloody stupid and um, your name came up…"

"Yeah?" Hermione said, took a sip of her soda and shook her head and amused smile on her face. Oh, this was going to be a good one, she presumed. "I don't follow."

"Well, heh, you see," Harry started again as Pansy rolled her eyes. "Well, that night, we were talking about sex and -"

"Typical," Ginny stated.

"And?" Luna prompted, intrigued.

"Well, did you and…what I am trying to say is did you ever slee…um were you ever intimate -"

Fed up, Ron waved a spoon in her direction and burst out. "Did you fuck Draco Malfoy at the Graduation Ball?"

"RONALD!" Luna and Ginny screeched in unison.

Pansy burst out into hysterical fits of laughter.

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Ron stared at his ex-girlfriend, waiting, undeterred.

Hermione's opened and closed her mouth in a fair imitation of a fish.

_Right.__ Well…of course_. Well, she certainly hadn't expected that. As everything fell into place (the boys had been acting strange around her ever since that night) she curbed back the shock, the need to smack Ron for using such crude language and the bubbling fury that was directed to a certain silver-blonde…_creature_ she ever had the displeasure of knowing (biblically and otherwise).

Then she closed her mouth, shook her head as if to clear it from thought and stared back at Ron levelly. Her voice wavered, but only slightly, as she answered, "Yes. I did."

Luna and Ginny gasped.

Harry was sure something cracked as his head whipped up to stare at Hermione.

Pansy wiped the tears from her eyes and clutched her sides.

And it was Ron's turn to sputter like he had gills.

There was a full minute of silence.

"But, 'Mione, he's an evil Sly-" Harry stopped as he saw Pansy pick up her knife and then finished, uselessly, "…_Malfoy_."

"He's a bloody fucking bastard is what he is!" Ron stated, finally finding his voice.

"Hey! He's _your_ friend!" Ginny reminded him.

"No, he's dead to me now," Ron stated dramatically, curling his napkin into his fist as Luna shook her head. "Fucking…stupid… bleedin' _arsehol_e!"

"Oh don't be such a drama queen!" Pansy piped in, crossing her legs. She had known for quite some time about Hermione and Draco's rendezvous and she was thrilled that it was finally in the open.

Telling Blaise about the look on Ron's face as Hermione confirmed what Draco must've shared with the boys, was something she was looking forward to.

"Shut up Parkinson!" Ron yelled.

"Hey!" Harry yelled back at his best mate. "Take that back!"

As everyone started talking at once, yelling, screaming, calming Ron down, asking her questions and generally making a ruckus, Hermione leaned back against her chair and pressed a hand to her temple, anger welling up inside of her like a volcano.

And she came to the startling realization, that no matter how much distance she put between her and the Smug Bastard, he would never stop causing trouble for her. And it was only fair she return the favor.

Oh, Draco Malfoy was going to rue the day he was born.


	3. Three: Confronting the Prat and Past

**Title**: A Friendly Game of Poker  
**Rating**: R  
**Pairing**: D/Hr  
**Summary**: A boys' poker game leads to interesting revelations.  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own a damn thing. Can you tell I am bitter? The characters belong to JK Rowling.

**Author's Note**: Yeah, so sorry for not updating but I was out of the country, enjoying my summer. It seems that there is now, after this, one more part left. Yippee.

**Part Three: Confronting the Prat (and Past)**

"You unbelievably enormous GIT!"

Draco straightened and turned around to face the screeching banshee currently standing in the middle of his living room in the form of one Hermione Granger.

And smiled. Pleasantly.

"Well, it took you long enough."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" she yelled as she whipped out her wand and pointed it at him, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He found himself quite turned on. "I've killed before so don't think I will hesitate to annihilate your pathetic arse from this world!"

"Tsk, tsk, Granger," he stated as he took a step forward and casually pushed the wand aimed at his chest out of the way. Right at his heart; the symbolism was not lost on him. "Is that anyway to greet a lover?"

"We are _not_ lovers!" she answered through gritted teeth, dropping her wand on the ground as she took a step forward, waving a finger in his face. "We shagged once, _ONCE_, almost eight years ago and you went and told the entire world! You bloody bastard! Forget the wand; I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"Such violence, such anger," Draco commented, remaining calm. A lesser man (or him, back in third year) would have trembled in the face of her wrath. But he was not thirteen. Or a lesser man. "There are places to go for that, Granger. I could recommend a terrific Muggle psychwhathisface. Did wonders with me and my…_issues_. Lovely chap."

"Psychiatrist," she corrected without hesitation and then winced. "I do not need therapy! I have every reason to be pissed. You told Ron and Harry! You told them!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, amused to no end. "They asked me. They said, "Draco, best shag you've ever had?" I had to answer. What was I supposed to do?"

"Um, _hello_, LIE!"

He made a shocked face, checking the urge to grin at her murderous expression. Oh how he missed this. "I couldn't possibly do that. I'm a Good Person, now. Good People don't lie to their friends. Frankly Hermione, I am a little offended that you'd suggest such a thing."

"Come off it, Malfoy," she hissed, poking a finger into his chest. "We agreed that no one had to know. We had a deal!"

"Oh how our memory fails us, my little Gryffindor," he mocked, pushing her finger out of the way, just as he had pushed her wand away. He took a step closer, reveled in the way her eyes widened half in fear and half in awareness of how close he was standing. "_You_ decided no one had to know. Just as soon as your feet hit the ground, you ran away like the brave, righteous girl you are. And yes, I admit, I let you. But we made no such deal. Be very clear about this. I had every intention of a repeat performance. I still do."

She decided it was better to ignore the threat. Yes, Draco Malfoy always made seduction sound like a threat. "I thought we understood that that…_night_ was a fluke, a…a _thing_ that happened in the heat of the moment and that it was done with."

Oh, now she had crossed a line. Of course, he'd been pushing her there all along but still, there was no turning back.

"Listen here, Granger, because I will only say this once," he stated, his tone taking on a steely edge. "I won't be some Muggleborn Know-It-All's unpleasant business that is to be swept under the rug. We played it your way, little girl." His reached out to grab her; his fingers curled around her upper arm with just the slightest amount of pressure. His eyes remained on hers, amused and not the least bit vindictive. A beatific smile adorned his face. "Now it's my turn."

Hermione blinked and suddenly, the reason why dating Draco Malfoy was a Bad Idea flashed crystal clear in her head: he had, with all probability, the personality of a sociopath.

"So that's it then?" she asked, trying to tug her arm free but he had a remarkably strong grasp. _That_ she remembered very well. "When you decide that it's time to bring back the past you can just do so at your whim and I shall just fall obligingly in line with it, then?"

"Well, obligingly would be ideal I suppose but I like it when you fight back," he replied good-naturedly, loosening his grip a little as his other hand settled on her shoulder and played with a loose strand of the ridiculously tempting hair.

"You're sick." She tried to sound disgusted but the heat rolling between their almost touching bodies was making her a little…heady. "What makes you think I rather care to oblige or fight you, Malfoy? What makes you think I care what your intentions are?"

He smirked, the hand on her shoulder skimming down her arm and pushing the material of her robe with it. The heat of his hand went through the thin cotton of her sensible blouse and had her shivering, unwillingly. "A valiant effort, love. Truly. You lie almost as well as a Slytherin."

"I am not lying." Yes, her voice quavered but that didn't make her statement less true. Right? Riiiight.

Draco lowered his head slightly, brushed his lips across her temple. "Now let's be honest. After all, that is what you go about preaching to every poor sod you meet, love. Honesty and morals and all that lot. Why don't we try it for ourselves?"

"Malfoy, I -" she tried to say but her words were cut off as he closed his forefinger and thumb over her lips, sealing them together.

"Hush," he stated with a disapproving look. "Now can you _honestly_ tell me, Granger that you didn't have fun that night we…what's that term Muggle teenagers use these days? Oh yes, 'hooked up'? And can you say with a doubt that ever since that night there has never been a man to give you such utter pleasure as I did that fateful night?" Hermione snorted and he applied the slightest hint of pressure to her lips. "Remember, _'Mione_, we're telling the truth now."

She continued staring at him, unable to speak because his fingers were still sealing her lips together. Desperately, she tried yelling. "Mmm! Mmm!"

"What's that, Granger? I can't understand what you're saying." Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand away from her lips before opening her mouth and biting down on his forefinger. Malfoy yelped in pain and jumped away from the brunette witch. "Ow! Fuck! _Granger!_"

"Never do that again!"

Malfoy's upper lip curled as his finger still throbbed. "Bitch!"

Hermione smiled smugly and put her hands on her hips. "Fuckwit."

"Need I remind you who started it that night, Hermione?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest. "If I recall correctly, it was a rather memorable moment."

They stood there, both panting slightly, and staring at each other with utter disdain. And suddenly, eight years vanished and the memory of their night in Snape's office sparked clearly in their minds.

_"You're such a bitch, Granger," a drunken Draco muttered as she followed her into his Head of House's office. "Bossing everyone around. Self righteous little twit. I hate you."_

_"Then why are you following me, fuckwit?" she asked him primly. She had downed enough Fire Whiskey to make her tipsy and uninhibited enough to break into Snape's office without the slightest bit of fear or guilt. When Malfoy had caught her sneaking out of the Graduation celebrations, she had simply suggested he come along or leave her alone, she didn't **care**. That, for eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger, Head Girl extraordinaire was a foreign yet dizzyingly addictive concept: not caring._

_"Because you happen to be breaking into my godfather's office," he replied testily._

_"Oh come off it!" she exclaimed and then charmed the candles scattered around the office to light up. "S'not like you don't want to know what Snape is hiding. Where's your sense of adventure?"_

_"Why sneak off on your adventures alone, Granger? Why aren't Scarhead and Weasel accompanying you? Bloody bastards."_

_It seemed alcohol had loosened Hermione's tongue a bit. "Scarhead is off sulking and damning the world for his lot in life. Weasel is making out with fucking Luna Lovegood in a dark and seedy corner."_

_Despite his earlier declaration of hatred, he admired the girl's spirit and use of derogatory words. In his current state, it turned him on quite a bit. He smirked. "Well, good for them. Now, tell me pet, what exactly do you plan on doing now that you're here?"_

_Hermione circled Snape's desk and tapped on the wood before looking up at Draco and shrugging. "Something crazy and/or stupid."_

_"Good call," he answered as he sat down in Snape's chair, behind the desk and watched Hermione pilfer through his drawers. "May I ask why?"_

_"Why not?" she replied with another shrug and then hoisted herself up on the desk, facing him, her lavender dress robes settling down around her. "S'not like they can suspend me, I've graduated. No more responsible, prickly, stickler-for-the-rules Hermione Granger. They can't touch me."_

_"So you've gotten a big head now, have you?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. The effects of the alcohol were waning off a bit and through the intoxicated haze in his brain; he could muster up enough thought to know that this was not a terribly good idea. "Oh wait…that was always there. Snape can still cause you harm if he finds you here. Why risk your squeaky clean image?"_

_"Then I'm taking you down with me, Malfoy. 'Sides it's not the first time I'll be in trouble with dear old Severus." She leaned back on her arms, one palm flat against the top of the desk. She took a swig of Fire Whiskey from the bottle in her free hand. "Now, Malfoy, when are you going to quite talking and start stripping?"_

_Draco's eyes bugged out. How the hell did Granger know those were the words he'd had been dying to hear from her lips all year? This wasn't another one of his drunken fantasies now was it? "Excuse me?"_

_Hermione giggled drunkenly as she parted her legs slightly; lavender silk riding up her legs as she did so. "Don't be daft, Malfoy. I want you to shag me senseless right here on Snape's desk. It'll be the craziest and/or stupidest thing I'll ever do. Come on now, fuck me, Malfoy."_

_He tried to open his mouth and say something, anything, to stop the madness. But with Granger looking all soft and pretty and well, tipsy, beckoning him to do nefarious things to her body…who was he deny her such wonders?_

_Grinning like a fool, he stood up, stepping between the V of her legs. Leaning forward, he traced his lips against her earlobes and whispered, "I thought you'd never ask."_

To Be Continued…


	4. Part Four: Consummation

**Title**: A Friendly Game of Poker  
**Author**: Mrs. Witter  
**Rating**: R  
**Pairing**: D/Hr  
**Summary**: A boys' poker game leads to interesting revelations.  
**Disclaimer**: Nope, still don't own them. The characters belong to JK Rowling.

**Part Four: Consummation **

Damn it, the miserable sod was right. She _had_ started it. Stupid bloody alcohol and its repercussions. Nevertheless, they had a deal, no matter that it was unspoken.

It was bloody smart, is what it was. There was no way in hell the two of them could have continued an affair (if she even wanted to – which she so totally did not, not at that time. Uh-uh. No way. No thanks.).

The man was seriously deluded.

She stared into his smug, mercurial eyes and cursed him to an afterlife in hell for his insistence that they drudge up their horrible tawdry and quite frankly, a little bit clichéd, past. Didn't he know avoidance was the best policy? Hadn't he ever closed his eyes and wished anything to just go away?

Goddamn it, and just when she was just really getting good at willful blindness the tosser has to come and make her face the truth. Ron would be so disappointed that his lessons were for naught.

Steeling herself for another battle, she tossed her head back and stuck out her chin defiantly, "I don't care what happened or how it happened. It was a mistake and I refuse to pay for it now."

He glared at her angrily for a moment before relaxing his features into a pleasant smile. "Okay. Say we forget about it. We've managed to steer clear of this _mistake _for eight years, I'm sure we could do it for eighty more. Unfortunately, no one else is going to forget this. My mates and especially yours. Cat's out of the bag, Granger."

She let out an exasperated yelp, "Because you opened your big, fat mouth!"

He shrugged carelessly. "Still, the damage is done."

Clenching her fists to keep from punching him, she whined, "What's your bloody point, Malfoy?"

He stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder, twirling a strand of hair in his finger as he did so. He bent his head, bringing it closer to hers as he whispered, intimately, "Why are you fighting this?"

Hermione tried to concentrate on being indignant but it was proving to be hard to do with his face and lips just inches away and that intoxicating (_No, pretentious!_ she corrected herself) cologne clouding her senses. Finding her voice, she managed to get out, "I-I'm not fighting _any_thing. There is nothing to fight."

Malfoy simply raise an eyebrow and smirked. "Granger, Potter and Weasel already know and they'll get over it. There was never a need to give a rat's arse about what they think…"

"Do you honestly think that I make every decision in my life only with their approval?" she asked, eyes flashing angrily.

"Not every decision," he conceded condescendingly, "but the ones concerning me."

"You egotistical, arrogant, vul -"

Draco's grip tightened on her shoulder as the other snaked around her waist and she gasped when he pulled her flush against him. "Now, now, love, no need for sweet nothings. I'm already yours."

Even as her mind rejected such a silly, not-so-charming declaration, her traitorous heart flipped over in her chest and her seriously-in-a-sex-draught body was reacting wildly, touching his so intimately, even through their clothes. Placing her hands on his chest, she tried (meekly) to push him away. "Let. Me. Go."

"Not a chance," he replied and brought the hand resting on her shoulder to cup the back of her head, his fingers twining in her hair. "I'm going to kiss you, Hermione. And you're going to kiss me back."

The alarms bells were getting frighteningly loud in her head as his lips slowly descended towards hers. Everything slowed down and her heart and pulse were beating really, really fast and her blood was pounding in her ears but still, she managed to say, "I will bite your lips if I have to."

Malfoy only smirked again and whispered a breath away, "I'm counting on it."

When his lips claimed hers, her eyes fluttered close and her body rejoiced, rather pointedly ignoring her mind's dimming protestations. Involuntarily, her hands clutched at his crisp white shirt, wrinkling the material between her fingers and he held her as close and humanly possible. His insistent lips parted her own, battering away all of her carefully constructed resistance and on a moan, she surrender to his kiss. The bastard smile against her lips as she went pliant against him. When she opened her eyes and saw the satisfaction in his, she made good on her threat and bit his lower lip in retaliation.

Draco flinched and broke the kiss but then only chuckled, "Still kinky, Granger. I love it."

"You planned all of this, didn't you?" she asked, suddenly, her hands on her hips.

"Well, not everything," Draco relented with a smile as he pushed her robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. "When I went to Potter's to play poker I had no intention of revealing anything."

"Then why the bloody hell did you?" she asked, to angry again to notice or care that he was undoing the buttons of her blouse, one at a time.

He shrugged and parted the blouse, his eyes feasting on her pink lace-covered breasts, so utterly feminine and wispy under her sensible clothes. That was his Granger: a pleasant surprise underneath all that common sense. "It just came to me; I knew Potter and Weasel would report back to you as soon as they could. I'm surprised it took them a week to work up the nerve."

"They were just waiting for me to say no, to deny it and let them live in their bubble," she murmured, to herself mostly as she remembered that shock and pathetic look on their faces when they were dealt the truth.

"A little slap from reality will do the wankers good, really," Draco stated as his fingers trailed from her collarbone to the peak of her breasts. Experimentally, he bent his head and nuzzled her neck. She still smelled the same; soap and hint of vanilla. His lips grazed against her skin as he continued, "You did them a favor, Granger. Think about it this way, doesn't it feel great to not hide our night of passion from them anymore?"

"I suppose," she stated with a dreamy sigh as his lips trailed lower still and his mouth closed over a hardened nipple. "Oh. Mm, yes. I still hate you for opening your big mouth."

"Well, we'll just have to rectify that, won't we?" He bent down and scooped her into arms. Even as she gasped and tried to struggle free, her heart thudded in her chest and fluttery feminine feeling tingled up her spine. The idiot, she admitted it, kept in terrific shape. "I'll give you the tour of my flat. We'll start with the bedroom and work our way through the entire place."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Malfoy," she stated but really only for the principle of it all. Her fingers were already twined in his hair and her lips were tracing the shell of his earlobe.

"Okay," he agreed as he continued towards the bedroom. "We'll just shag then."

- & -

"Pansy," Harry stated rather forcefully as she shed her coat and revealed a magnificent Muggle dress of deep, rich maroon that hugged all her curves and showcased those lovely long legs of hers. Even as Harry's blood raced through his veins at the sight of her, his reason and logic prevailed. "Do you think that dress is appropriate for an event like this?"

They were standing in the foyer of London's Ritz's Carlton hotel, attending Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's 45th wedding anniversary. Pansy gave her coat to the attendant and then turned to him and shrugged. "No but since when have I ever been appropriate?"

Harry nodded and adjusted his bowtie. "Point taken. You look hot."

"And for once I agree with you, Potter," Draco stated as he walked up to the couple. He took Pansy's hands in his and kissed her cheek, "although I would have much preferred to see you in green, love."

"Malfoy," Harry stated stonily at his enemy-turned-friend-turned-bastard-who-shagged-his-best-friend.

"Potter," the blond-haired wizard stated with a smile. "Now don't look so fierce."

"I thought by now you'd be a pile of ashes once Hermione was through with your sorry arse."

"Honestly Harry," Pansy interjected, shaking her head. "It was eons ago, let it go."

"Easy for you to say," The Boy Who Lived replied petulantly. "You've known forever. And you never told me and I haven't dealt with it yet."

Draco shrugged. "Your problem mate."

"_Arsehole!_" Ron's voice rang out in the foyer of hotel as he came charging in Draco's direction, Luna following him and trying to grab his flailing arms. "I'm going to kill you!"

Despite his earlier remarks, Harry blocked Ron's attack by grabbing his best friend by the shoulders. "Don't do it, Ron. Calm the fuck down. This is your parent's party!"

"Stop protecting him, Harry!" the redhead tossed back, his face purple as he struggled against his mate's restraining hands. "S'not your job anymore! The fucking bastard has this coming!"

"Oh come off it, Weasel. You're just mad I got there first," Draco piped up, amused at the entire situation. Ron growled and Harry shot him a dirty look. Luna looked on miserably. It had been awhile since he had caused this much trouble, Draco realized with a wistful smile; he missed it. Pansy smacked him upside the head. "Ow! Fuck Parkinson! That _hurt_!"

"Just filling in for Granger," she replied with a sweet smile. "By the way, where is she?"

On cue, the witch in question appeared, her high heels clicking against the marble of the entrance as she hurried towards her friends. She could see that there was a bit of commotion and Harry was holding Ron back. Sighing, she looked at Malfoy and glared angrily. Damn him, she had wanted to get to the party first so she could ease her friend's in on the development in her life.

"Hello everyone!" she stated cheerfully through her nervousness. She rambled, like she was prone to do when people stared at her intensely, expectantly. "Oh, Luna, you look lovely. Pans, your hair! Glad you decided to wear it up. Much more effective. And boys, I do love it when you clean up, so _handsome_."

"Why thank you, Granger." Draco smirked and moved towards her to help her with her coat, revealing her dark navy blue gown, with a slit up one leg and a particularly daring neckline, for Hermione anyway. Inwardly, she reveled at the little hitch in Malfoy's breathing as he stared at her.

Outwardly, she glared at him. "I wasn't speaking to you, Malfoy."

"Ha!" Ron mocked him with a smug smile. "She wasn't talking about you."

Fed up, Luna pulled her boyfriend away. "Merlin, Ronald, let's go see your parents. It's _their_ party."

Harry and Pansy followed Ron and Luna, both men stopping to scowl at Draco and give him the universal we've-got-your-eyes-on-you look before following their dates into the main ballroom.

Shaking her head, Hermione started to head in that direction when Malfoy grabbed her arm. "And where do you think you're going, Granger?"

"To the party," she replied calmly. "Let go of my arm."

"You're not walking in their alone, looking good enough to eat," he told her with a smile as he slid a possessive arm around her waist. "Everyone is going to know you're here with me, love."

Her eyes widened in fear. "No! _Draco_. We're not telling anyone anything."

Draco's mouth opened and closed, wordlessly as he stared at her incredulous. Shaking his head, he started to chuckle. "I never thought I'd say this to you pet, but you never learn, do you? Do you remember what happened last time we kept us a secret?"

"I'm not ready!" she retaliated stubbornly.

"Come now. Let the world know you're shagging me, Granger," he stated, kissing her lightly on the lips. "It'll only improve your image."

"Fuck you!"

"Not now, love," he answered pleasantly as he pushed her towards the festivities. "We have to go congratulate the Weasleys. Then watch as their youngest son charges for me, having an apoplectic seizure when he sees me groping your delectable arse."

"Malfoy! You bastard!" she yelled at him as he dragged her.

"So I'm told, Granger," he returned jovially as they entered the ballroom. "So I am told."

**THE END**

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for all those who read and reviewed this fic. My first completed Harry Potter fiction! Wee! And thank you to whoever nominated this fic at _Dangerous Liaisons Awards_. I was flattered and touched!


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